Fate Deals Series: The Honest Hand
by WintersBlueRaven
Summary: Skyrim was a far cry from Raven Rock's ashy splendor. Years in a stifling apprenticeship finds a young, Dunmeri warrior eager to explore the Nordic country. Landing the job of caravan guard should prove the ticket she needs. Alas, life isn't so simple, as the Dunmer finds herself catapulted into the path of a brewing legend [AU/Extended Timeline/Companion Questline/Slow Burner].
1. Chapter 1

_**AN:** Hi folks, Winter here. Just a heads up, this story has been re-released due to a huge chapter extension and a few extra revisions. I'd like to add that this story, along with many others to come, are part of a series, **Fate Deals Series**, co-authored by my good friend SophH. We follow a AU timeline of Skyrim, starting some years before and ending a good decade or so after the canon timeline. We felt a bit more realism was needed. If you have any questions, please feel free to PM myself or Soph - we have an appendices in the works, as well as a tumblr account with extended information regarding our series._

_This story follows the extended Companions timeline, with quite a few additions, so please bare with. R&R, I'd love to hear from you! _

_SophH's **Fate Deals Series: The Betraying Hand - Vol.1 - **s/10008203/1/Fate-Deals-Series-The-betraying-hand-Vol-1 - please go and read her Dragonborn fic, another story from the Series which follows our canon Dragonborn & her lovely vampire follower Serana._

_- WBR_

_**Fate Deals Series**_

_**The Honest Hand - Vol. 1**_

_**Chapter 1:**_

**4E 192**

The creak of the caravan cart broke the early afternoon silence, bar the odd bird call and flutter of wings. Through the broken cloud, the sun shone brightly across the plains surrounding Whiterun. This entire land was so foreign. She was used to ashen dust of Solstheim. To be free of her mask, able to breathe freely without fear of choking was amazing.

The Khajiit caravan had been on route from Windhelm to Whiterun for two weeks, their progress slow but methodical. The merchants' cargo was hefty this trip, and the elf wasn't entirely uncomfortable with where it had come from. But she'd learned not to question. She'd struck a deal with Ahkari, and the Dunmer swore to uphold her end of the bargain. After all, freedom from Fervyn's forge made it worth it.

"Exciting, isn't it?" Kharjo's voice startled the Dunmer from her musings, her gloved hands gripping the reins upon reflex. Tasolf reacted with an irritated toss of his head, mane whipping this way and that. She glanced about to find the black and white cat walking at her side. He watched her with a faint smile beneath his whiskers, blue eyes shining with amusement.

She flicked her eyes back to the approaching city, and couldn't hide the bubble of anticipation that grew within her belly, "It is. I've never been this far west before"

The patchwork Khajiit nodded, following her gaze to Whiterun, "This area of Skyrim is one of my favourites, the land is softer, the wind warmer. Not as warm as home of course, but we must take small comfort were we can, no?"

The elf hummed her agreement, mind drifting away into memory. She had been away from Raven Rock for five years now, she wondered if it had changed much in her absence. Probably not.

"Your eyes speak of faraway places, my friend. Home, perhaps? " he was a curious one, seeming to know whatever was on her mind. The Dunmer shot him a sideways glance, causing the cat to grin. Those teeth were ominously sharp, "There are no secrets within our company, grey one. You know this"

"Unfortunately" she smiled a bit before it quickly fell away. Kharjo had to hold back the sigh as it did so; the elf was a grim creature. But then again, all those he'd met of Dunmeri blood seemed to be morose; it must be an inherent trait.

She relented, tearing herself away from their surroundings, "As incredible as this place is, I can't help but remember home. It's hard not to"

The pair settled into companionable chatter of the comparisons and differences between their homelands. Kharjo was so easy to converse with, that when she caught herself rattling on she promptly shut up. Her ears burned from embarrassment. The Khajiit didn't take long to react, ears twitching as he intercede and took over the tale telling.

Another few hours found them outside Whiterun's stables. The city was even bigger than she'd imagined, although not as large as Windhelm. Ahkari called a halt to the procession, spilling off to one side and bunkering down by the wall. The female Khajiit looked relieved but exhausted, smiling back to her guards, "We've arrived"

They went about setting up camp, under the attentive eyes of the guards. A few tents were erected about a central campfire, though the elf kept her bedroll by her pack. She preferred sleeping out in the elements, making it easier to reach your weapon. She helped Kharjo tend to the mounts whilst Ahkari and Zaynabi went through their stock. They'd be here for about month, until Ma'dran came to take up their current spot. The Dunmer would then be freed from her duties with Dro'marash's return.

The day was waning by the time they'd finished. Zaynabi busied herself with the cooking pot, whilst her mother scratched away at a piece of parchment. The guards sat further back, Kharjo sharpening his blade with a whetstone, the sound soothing in the Dunmer's ears. She had a book resting within her lap. The _Reclamations_ was a fascinating read, though quite controversial back home.

Unfamiliar voices caught the Dunmer's attention as she glanced up from her reading. A pair of guards had appeared at the edge of their camp, and where conversing with Ahkari. Both caravan guards grew tense, ready to act should the need arise. The female Khajiit laughed in her best diplomatic manner. She glanced over to her guards and surprised both by beckoning the elf over. The Dunmer scrambled to her feet, book dropping onto her pack as she grabbed her war hammer.

The Nords stiffened at her approach, eying her alien armour and bulky weapon with mild alarm. She gave them no quarter, and met their stares with a hard, unwavering one. Chitin armour was an oddity here, meaning such glances were to be expected. It didn't stop the shiver of unease run down her spine

"Be at ease, men of Balgruuf. This is my friend, Talisyn. She is a woman after your own heart, the noble sort" the elf had to refrain from glowering at the Khajiit too. Ahkari grinned at her, "My dear, I have some…paperwork that needs taken to the Jarl's court. Sadly, we are not welcome within the city's walls"

"I will take it" the elf replied instantly, though she eyed the guards with suspicion, "But what makes you think they won't arrest me the moment I'm past through the gates?"

The Khajiit pulled out a small sack of coin and handed it to the awaiting guard, "This will serve you well, no?"

The men gave the caravan a final glance before turning away, leaving a foul taste in Talisyn's mouth as they did. Ahkari's displeasure was apparent too, "Disgusting manlings, but business is business"

"So that's why they leave you be" under the elf's shrewd gaze the elder cat smiling wearily.

"Yes, but it's necessary. As are those papers. You are an elf, and therefore tolerated within the city's walls" the cat's words made Talisyn uneasy about handling the parchment, "You wondered why we brought you along?"

"I had hoped it was my charming company and strong swing" another chuckle of laughter, this time joined by Zaynabi. The elf sighed, "I'm useful, I get it, but I don't like being taken advantage of, Ahkari"

"I am sorry, Talisyn, but I am doing what I must" the Dunmer sighed, tucking the letter away as the Khajiit continued, "I would ask you one more favour this night, if I may?"

Talisyn shrugged, her armour creaking and clinking together with the movement, "There are many travellers within the city, find them within the inns. I would ask that you mingle and enthuse upon our wares whilst we remain here"

There went her brow, arching upward until the elf's blood red markings shone in the firelight, "You want me to advertise for you? You're kidding right?"

Zaynabi joined her mother, shaking her head, "You may not have many words, my friend, but you are a kindred spirit. Nords revel in their stories of battle, drink deep in their cups and entertain those who prove their worth"

"You calling me a drunk?" Ahkari laughed away the hostility in Talisyn's voice, pushing her towards the city

Standing before the archway, the warrior swallowed hard. She was on her own, for possibly the first time. Even in Windhelm she'd been in the company of her kin. But she'd be without backup, not even Kharjo to call for aid. Dread pooled in her gut as she forced herself forward, started up the stone steps to Whiterun.

Just as she expected, the elf barely got up the flight of worn stairs before she was stopped at the gate.

"What business does an elf have in the city?" the guard's voice was accusatory. Talisyn had to force herself to relax, her gut squirming with nerves. Just as she opened her mouth to reply, a shout came from above.

"She's with the caravan, let her pass!" the elf let out a breath she'd been holding, relief flooding her as the gate lurched open. The Dunmer flashed the questioning guard a brief glare, before she slipped inside.

A waft of cool, smoky air greeted her as she stepped out, cloak pulled up tight about her chin. Red eyes took in the area about her, appraising the wooden chalets and paved streets. The afternoon sun was quickly fading, which was going to make finding things more difficult. Clenching her jaw, the elf eyed the two streets before her thoughtfully.

Minutes pass as the Dunmer mulled over her options. But her indecision was driving the stationed guard mad. He sighed before clearing his throat. Talisan jumped, glaring at him for startling her. Despite his frustration, the guard couldn't help but feel a pity for the stranger. She was obviously out of her depth.

"You heading up to Dragonsreach?" Talisyn nodded stiffly, "Then best to take the main path round by the Bannered Mare. Once you reach the marketplace, head up the steps to your left until you see the Gildergreen. It's a big tree, can't miss it. From there it's straight forward"

The guard wasted no time in returning to his post, leaning against a stone column. She glanced back, hesitating a second, before voicing her thanks. He inclined his head, "Can't have a strange elf getting lost amongst the noble houses, might cause a scene"

She couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or jesting, so the elf decided to let it slid. He was, after all, a guard and a helpful one at that. She took his advice and cautiously headed off down the paved street. Laughter and rather questionable singing sounded from the taverns she passed, Talisyn making sure she knew where to come later. She was grateful for the relatively empty streets. Her nerves were getting the better of her, and she didn't particular wish to meet anyone. The Dunmer took the steps two at a time, upon reaching the top she was greeted with the sight of a withering tree.

"_This must be the Gildergreen…"_ she raised a brow as she passed by beneath its bare branches, _"…why keep a dead tree about? Bit depressing really"_

Red eyes swivelled from the tree, widening with delight as Dragonsreach loomed ahead. At last! She quickened her pace, mindful of the guards. The elf had to catch her breath before the door. Ahkari had been adamant how important these papers were, meaning she'd have to be on her best behaviour.

"_Got to make a good impression"_ she grumbled internally before pushing the doors open.

The door creaked open far too loudly for Talisyn's liking, spilling what little sunlight was left into the hall. Her fingers seemed reluctant to release the door handle. But she yanked them loose, moving stiffly forward. She winced as the door clattered shut, the sound sealing her fate.

A great fire danced merrily within its hearth, lighting the bustling dinner tables. The Dunmer eyed the bickering children and burly Nord sitting up to their supper. The man seemed to be in a heated conversation with the guard captain.

As the elf passed by their table the argument seemed to falter. Talisyn focused on her task to steel her nerves, spying Balgruuf sitting comfortably upon his throne, idly chatting with a finely dressed Imperial. The hooded elf moved quickly with purpose. She would get this done, then scurry back to the Plain District and hide at the back of the tavern with her sujamma…

Ringing of steel cut through the chatter, and brought the Dunmer to a jolting standstill, seeing as the blade in question was pressed against her chest. Talisyn's heart skipped a beat, her hand instinctively reaching up for her war hammer, only to be stayed by a cold voice, "Unless you wish to lose the hand, I suggest you don't"

Red eyes followed the blade down its length, coming to rest upon a grey hand gripping the hilt. Brows furrowed in confusion, quickly darting up to the wielder's face. Her surprise exploded across her face before she could restrain it, another pair of ruby eyes glowered back at her. A Dunmer female…in a Nordic court…clearly armed…

What in Oblivion was going on?!

"Irileth" the Dunmer twitched at the name, hesitating before turning her head ever so slightly, "What is going on?"

That blade scrapped a little harder against Talisyn's breastplate, causing her initial bewilderment to darken into irritation. The younger elf scowled as she indicated to the blade, "He took the words out of my mouth"

"And I will take your tongue. You speak of Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, so mind your manners, n'wah!" that got a growl from the warrior, Talisyn's jaw clenching as the elder Dunmer finally answered, "An uncouth foreigner, my Jarl. One that doesn't know to properly identify herself before approaching so heavily armed"

The younger elf nearly swallowed her tongue at that, blast it! Her ears burned beneath her hood as she realised her folly, so intent on her task she'd forgotten simple etiquette. Her father would have been ashamed.

"Show your face, traveller" Irileth made to remove Talisyn's hood, when the elf took a step back. She sent the elder Dunmer a withering look.

"I'm more than capable" she tugged down the material, feeling distinctly more vulnerable without it. Red eyes darted back to the Jarl, now appraising her with a raised eyebrow. That look was startlingly familiar, causing the Dunmer to swallow hard. She dug about her brain for her manners, "My apologies, Jarl Balgruuf, I meant no offence. Nor do I harbour any ill will to any in this court"

"_Though there are a few I'd like to throttle_", she shot a look at Irileth, finding the Dunmer glaring back at her. Did that woman know any other expression?

The blonde haired Nord was quiet for a moment before sitting up in his seat, "You have a name, elf?"

Her posture smartened as her response rolled out in a rehearsed manner, "Talisyn Segroth, of House Redoran"

"You are a long way from home, Talisyn. What brings you to my halls?" his politeness was surprising.

"I'm here…to deliver this" Talisyn moved slowly, watching Irileth diligently as she retrieved the letter from her pouch. Talisyn made to approach, but found that sword impeding her progress once more. Irileth's hand snapped out in front of her vision, indicating impatiently for the document. Grinding her teeth, Talisyn reluctantly handed it over.

"From such a line of warriors, it seems unlikely that you're here just to play delivery girl" a jolt of anger shot through Talisyn's veins, making her fingers jerk involuntarily. This woman was completely intolerable.

"I am working as a caravan guard, the letter is from Ahkari" the Jarl plucked the letter from Irileth's hand, opening and reading its contents. The silence that followed was unbelievably nerve-wracking. She watched anxiously as the Jarl's brow furrowed. He called the Imperial over, and showed him the parchment.

"Ahkari you say? The Khajiit merchant from Riften?" the Dunmer nodded under the Nord's intense gaze, wishing the ground would just hurry up and swallow her whole. Had she done something wrong? Was she going to be arrested?! What if…what if Ahkari had somehow set her up?! The thought sent a wave of icy terror cascading down her limbs…

The Imperial finally spoke, indicating to something at the foot of the letter. The Jarl's eyes tore away, and Talisyn visibly slumped. Azura be praised!

"I see" Balgruuf relented, "It seems Jarl Laila has pardoned the Khajiit of her crimes. I will permit her to sell her wares outside the city walls"

Talisyn frowned, crimes? What in Oblivion was he talking about?

"But I expect her to keep to the laws of this hold, and should I hear of any further misconduct, I won't be as lenient" the Dunmer went ridged as she nodded her head, utterly bewildered by the entire conversation. Talisan cleared her throat when the following silence became too heavy for her.

"I thank you for the audience, Jarl Balgruuf" Talisyn bowed her head. She took a few steps back before replacing her hood, "I'll be sure to pass on the message"

"You'd also do well to heed it. I don't want to hear of any trouble caused by your hand during your stay, Talisyn of House Redoran" red eyes shot back to his, that had been an order.

"Yes, my Lord, of course" with a final nod, the elf turned on her heel and made her escape as dignified as possible.

As the door slammed shut behind her, Talisyn released a shaky breath. For once, she was grateful for the icy chill, cooling her burning brow and cheeks. She unclenched her gloved hands, watching horrified as they shook. She had a queasy unease running through her, making the Dunmer's throat dry and voice hoarse.

"_Blast it all, I need a drink!"_

She rubbed her brow as she marched down the steps; diligently keeping to one side should any guards pass by. With each step, her vision swam. No, it seemed she wasn't going to make it to the inn quite yet. Stumbling upon the last step, the woman slumped down onto a bench beneath the Gildergreen. Her war hammer rattled indignantly against the wood, but the Dunmer paid it no mind. She clutched her head in her hands, focusing on her breathing as she waited for the sickness to pass.

Time passed, her limbs growing cold. She hadn't paid much attention to the goings on about her, only the thoughts in her head.

Humiliation, it burned ripe and fierce within her gut. It swamped all the fresh memories of meeting the Jarl. Her actions, her words. Foolish, foolish, _foolish_! She'd spoken out of turn, appeared a threat, and had to practically grovel before the man in charge. All in one sitting!

Doubt, it danced around the edges, causing her to shudder even more. Had she made the right choice coming here? Should she have stayed at Fervyn's side? She was no wordsmith, but one of steel and leather. Such matters made an utter fool of her…

Regret-

Red eyes finally popped open, the elf slowly sitting upright. Her brow was tight and gaze hard. No. She wouldn't allow herself to wallow. She'd come here to explore. And she was doing just that. Yes, times seemed stressful and downright terrifying. But that didn't mean it was always going to be like this. Talisan clenched her jaw, eyes glowering up at Dragonsreach.

She wasn't a child anymore; she had been trained by her father to be a warrior worthy of House Redoran. She had learned from both Fervyn and Glover how to make a forge sing. It was thanks to her and her brother that the ebony mines in Raven Rock had reopened. She was a Segroth, and that meant something, even if it was only to her.

The elf slowly resurfaced from her thoughts, feeling a lot better. Talisyn took a deep breath and exhaled with a faint smile, her eyes surveying around. They came to rest on a very odd building. It seemed to resemble…an upturned boat? Dark brows furrowed as she squinted, what was it used for? The Khajiits had made no mention of it. Humming, the elf heaved herself to her feet.

"I think it's time for that drink"

* * *

**R&R please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** _Hey folks, Winter again! Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I'm up to my neck in exams, and seeing as I've stupidly left everything to the last minute, the chapter suffered for it. I will try my best to update weekly, but I cannot guarantee it. Thanks to the feedback, chapter 1 has been heavily revised since its release. I've tried to keep description in balance with plot this time, and not overload you guys with 'floral' paragraphs. There is plot in this chapter, as well as some character portrayal. Talisyn is relatively young for a Dunmer, 60/70ish - which in our AU is equivalent to mid twenties - and may seem quite black and white in her views. Just a heads up, as she's in development._

_R&R please!_

_- _WBR

_**Fate Deals Series:**_

_**The Honest Hand – Vol. 1**_

_**Chapter 2:**_

The level of ruckus was far louder than Talisyn had anticipated as she stepped into the Bannered Mare. A solid wave of heat hit her the moment she entered, a stark contrast with outside. The elf's nose wrinkled ever so slightly, the pungency of ale, sweat and cooking invading her nostrils. Her lips curled at the corners though, now this was familiar. A rowdy inn filled with harassed looking bar wenches and patrons of all shapes and sizes.

It was a fair job making her way to the bar, dodging and weaving passed the standing, the seated, and the somewhat lopsided. Her hand stayed firmly upon her leather pouch. They may seem jolly, but one could never be too careful. A cheery Nord was serving at the bar, and looked up at the Dunmer as she hopped onto a stool.

"Evening to you" she greeted, the wrinkles about her eyes deepening as she smiled, "What can I get you?"

Talisyn peered over the woman's shoulder, eying the assortment of alcoholic beverages. A sharp pang went through her, making the elf frown in disappointment. Of course, this wasn't the Cornerclub. The Nords wouldn't sell sujamma. Or matze. Blast it!

Sullenly, the Dunmer pulled down her hood and shrugged, "Something strong"

She could feel the brunette's gaze, and a few others along the bar, and started to regret her actions. Perhaps she should be a bit more…discreet? But another glance over the patrons revealed that they were already turning back to their drinks…interesting.

"You're not the first elf we've seen, traveller" the Nord had caught the elf's trepidation, a lilt of amusement in her tone. Talisyn raised her head, finding the bartender still smiling, "So long as you don't cause any problems, you should be fine. No need to look so worried"

"I'd have thought given the-" the elf lowered her voice, watching as the Nord began pouring liquor into a tankard, "-rising tensions I wouldn't have been so welcome"

The brunette's face tightened a bit at that, but her eyes were still warm as she brought Talisyn her drink. The Dunmer took off her gloves so she could savour the heat the beverage gave off. Sniffing the substance, a dark brow began to rise. Honey?

"I'm not sure if you've met the Jarl's housecarl?" Talisyn paused, her tankard half way to her mouth, red eyes hardening. That got a chuckle from the bartender, the lingering tension slowly diffusing, "Irileth is a force to be reckoned with, and is well respected within the hold"

The elf licked her lips, pleasantly surprised by the drink. It had a minty taste despite its smell, "But she's an elf?"

"And?" the woman rebuked, wiping up a spillage she'd missed. The man next to Talisyn slapped down his coin, excusing himself with a quick farewell, "She's saved the Jarl countless times, and has proven her worth. That is more than can be said for some folks"

"That's not the attitude in Windhelm" Talisyn snarled as she spoke it, though it was not aimed at those around her. She took another gulp of her drink, gripping her tankard a little too tightly. The hold of the Bear was highly unwelcoming towards her kind, the Grey Quarter nothing more than a rundown slum. Yes, they had shelter, a licence to sell, food and water…but respect? The Dunmer snorted at the thought, they were lucky if they were treated any better than the cattle.

The Nord's face lost its brightness seeing the Dunmer's downcast expression. The brunette prided herself on making her customers welcome, that they left the Mare with a smile and a belly full of warm drink. Her lips pursed as she picked up the coin, stashing it safely away behind the counter. It seemed she was going to have to work extra hard with this one.

"Aye, but this isn't Windhelm, lass" the brunette replied at last, coming to lean upon the now clean bar top. Talisyn watched her from over her tankard, her thirst getting the better of her as she downed the rest of the mead. The bartender's smile widened, delighted to see her beverage gain such approval, "Each hold is governed by its Jarl, and his views are upheld within his land. Where Ulfric Stormcloak judges and separates, Jarl Balgruuf judges and acts fairly. Those who prove themselves are rewarded, he is as fair a leader as you find within Skyrim"

The elf lowered her now empty tankard, licking her lips as her brows furrowed ever so slightly, "If so, why are the Khajiit barred from the city, when elves and Redguards can walk freely?"

"Because them cats are nothin' but trouble" the growled response sounded from their left, both women turning with mild surprise. A thoroughly drunk Nord sat slumped at next to Talisyn, glaring at his tankard as if it were the offending Khajiits. She could tell he was young, but the alcohol has cast a shadow over his face. He sniffed loudly, taking another slurp of his drink. He slammed it down afterwards and eyed Talisyn with a glare, "All of them, sneakin' and stealin'. You think the Jarl's gonna want furry filth like that in the city?"

Her tankard creaked ominously beneath her grip, ruby eyes narrowing, Talisyn's tongue readying a verbal assault. How dare he sit there and blackwash the entire Khajiit race with the same brush! Lips pulled back into a foul snarl, only to be cut across by the bartender.

"You would say that, Jervar. That was a one off, and all of Whiterun knows that the little cat was disciplined for assaulting you" Talisyn watched as Jervar coloured, his glower turning into a look of utter indignation. The bartender laughed at his expense, turning back to her elven patron, "He was on the receiving end of a Khajiit's fist, seems the cat's mate was washing by the river and he didn't take kindly to Jervar's ogling"

"It wasn't anythin' like that! I'd seen them skulkin' around the stables, and I got suspicious" he rumbled embarrassed, "How was I to know they were lookin' for some privacy?! And anyway, they're all fur, what's there to wash?!"

By then the conversation had utterly derailed, much to Talisyn's annoyance. She drowned out the rambling Nords, turning her attention to the surrounding bar. It seemed to have grown far busier since her arrival, the evening ushering in off duty guards, merchants and weary travellers. She'd have to where she was, unfortunately, for the tavern was full to bursting. So much for getting away from Jervar the Peeper.

Idly the elf drummed her fingers upon the bartop, feeling a bit out of place. What was she going to do now? How in Oblivion was she supposed to spread word about the caravan's wears? Her watch would be fast approaching, requiring her to return to camp. It left her with limited time, and a mild headache.

The bartender tapped her tankard recapturing the elf's attention, "Need a refill? You might need it if you intend to linger"

Talisyn raised her brow, following the Nord's line of vision until she caught sight of a lute being brought out. The elf groaned; she'd thought Jervar was bad. Someone strummed the strings, followed by what could only be described as a dying hound of a voice. Despite the embarrassing display, the Dunmer couldn't help but smirk, "I think I'll take you up on that, -"

"Hulga" the brunette offered as her smile brightened. The elf tried the foreign name, finding her tongue twisting and sticking horribly, leaving her feeling foolish. Hulga's laughter meant all was forgiven, and the pair settled into amicable banter whilst the Nord served her patrons and Talisyn drank her share of mead. The brunette regaled her Dunmer audience with the history of her fine establishment, something about a filly and a banner. There was interesting information of Whiterun itself, its cultural and political importance. Hulga spoke about the hold's famous, and nefarious. She told Talisyn of the services and amenities available. And finally, when the conversation fell onto the building shaped like an upturned boat, the elf's ears pricked up.

"You mean Jorrvaskr? That is home to the legendary Companions!" the Dunmer had found herself surrounded by varying levels of drunkenness by this point, her nose wrinkled from the smell. She'd resorted to focusing mostly on Hulga, hood up and a hand upon her leather pouch, "Founded by Ysgrimor himself, they're Skyrim's finest warriors. Kodlak White-mane sits at their head as Harbinger, though he claims he is but an advisor and that the company is in fact, leaderless"

Now this was more like the fabled stories Talisyn had heard during her time in Windhelm. Red eyes failed to hide their interest, shining a bit more brightly thanks to the drink in her veins. Rumbles and cheers from those around her seemed to back up Hulga's words, encouraging the hostess to continue.

"Their meadhall is the oldest building in Whiterun, and was the reason for the hold's expansion. That and the Skyforge, of course" the Dunmer's breath caught in her throat, her eyes now wide. It took her a few moments to compose herself, but she couldn't help the gush of excitement that filled her. _The_ Skyforge?! It was but a legend, surely?! The fires of the Eagle would burned hot and produce the strongest steel in all Tamriel. The most balanced blades, the hardiest of shields.

"It is said that Jorrvaskr was built to guard the Skyforge" Hulga passed a pair of bickering guards at the end of the bar their drinks, "Now, only Eorland Grey-mane tends the forge's fires, crafting Skyrim's best arms and armour"

"But he's not the only smith in Whiterun" an Imperial piped up from behind the rabble, her smile worn but pleasant. Behind her followed a mountain of a man, a dark haired Nord who stared down those who stood in their way. Many parted to let the pair by, Jervar even giving up his seat next to the Dunmer. Talisyn had never been so relieved, the man stunk.

"I see my father wasn't exaggerating, you are as heavily armed as he says" the Dunmer blinked at her owlishly, surprised by the sudden interest. The smith's smile curved into a smirk, her companion conversing with Hulga, "Whiterun isn't all that large, and gossip spreads quicker than fire here"

"I'm not sure I'm happy being the topic of town gossip" the elf grumbled, gulping down more mead to steady her unease. The woman laughed at her expense, leaving Talisyn to glower at the bartop. Coming to lean against the surface, the Imperial pursued her attempt at conversation.

"Your wear armour unusual armour, elf. And that weapon you carry, it is no ordinary hammer" much to the Dunmer's chagrin the woman tapped her pauldron, eyes sharp and uncannily observant as they scrutinised the chitin, "These plates show signs of reforming"

"Do you take pleasure in invading folk's personal space?" the elf snapped, shuffling over on her stool. Talisyn's discomfort only amused the smith further, her intrigue growing as she spotted the Dunmer's hands. Grey, calloused fingers curled about her tankard with a powerful grip. Similar in appearance to that of the Imperial's hands. Brown eyes creased at the corners, yes, this was definitely the lass.

"Only those worth my time" Talisyn regarded her with open suspicion. A tankard found its way into the Imperial's grasp as her husband joined in the unexpected meeting, "You have the hands of a smith"

Talisyn paused, glancing down at her uncovered fingers with a scowl. What was this woman getting at? The elf didn't want any hassle, nor did she mean any harm. Yet it seemed that Whiterun wasn't satisfied unless she was pestered to exasperation.

"And I would wager a guess that those hands are responsible for the equipment you carry?"

"What is it you want?" she'd had enough, her temper beginning to simmer at the edges. Talisyn fixed the Imperial with a firm stare that bordered on a glower. Yet, the tanned smith seemed unfazed, merely grinning with triumph at her victory. She took her time answering, sipping at her tankard whilst the elf stewed. He'd mentioned she was spirited.

"Why are you here, elf?" there it was, a terrible Dunmeri glower. The smith couldn't help it, this lass was just too easy. Sadly, it seemed the elf's patience was limited by drink, and the Imperial needed more evidence. She had to prod deeper, "You're obviously a capable fighter, crafting her own weapons and armour. That's no easy feat. But to work as a caravan guard?"

The elf's knuckles popped as she gripped the tankard ever tighter, her jaw too. This woman…Talisyn didn't even know her name, and yet the Imperial already knew a lot about her. Paranoia bubbled at the back of her mind, a terrible unease sending the hairs upon her neck standing on end. The Dunmer had to forcibly release the tankard, the metal clattering against the bartop as it fell from her grasp.

"_What_ do you _want_?" the elf repeated, tone as sharp as a blade. The Nord male tensed, sensing the silent storm brewing within the Dunmer. His wife was playing a dangerous game, but as he made to warn her, he was stopped by her hand. Adrianne knew all too well what she was doing.

"Surely one as capable as yourself finds the duties of a guard…demeaning?" the smith lowered her tankard, turning to face the Dunmer with a nonchalant smile, "Why are you wasting your time with such menial labour? That's what I want, elf. An answer. Why? Why are you playing the guard?"

"Why are you here?"

The stool scraped back loudly, the legs squealing against the wooden floor. An unexpected gasp sounded from behind Talisyn as she stood, fists clenched tight. Her heart thumped in her chest, pounding like a drum within her ears. A drum of blood, a drum of anger. The drum of Rage. One she danced to only in battle, a dangerous beat that could prove fatal in her current predicament.

The elf had to get out into the fresh air. This room…it was…it was too bloody hot. The air about her was heavy, suffocating her, coiling about her throat like a snake. Her teeth grated together audibly, her blood starting to boil beneath her skin. She felt like she was on fire, a familiar searing heat that scorched everything it touched. And the source of this sat naught but two feet away…grinning like a satisfied cat.

"What, you leaving so soon?"

"Adrianne, I think that's-" the smith cut across her Nord companion, his silence a reluctant one. Brown eyes pinned the seething elf to the spot.

"You run away because you fear the answer, Talisyn" that ire froze for mere moments, but long enough for the Imperial to catch a glimpse. A glimpse of fear. It was so deeply hidden that the poor elf had managed to delude herself into believing it didn't even exist, "You don't know why you're here, do you?"

The tension had reached its peak, teetering in those last few moments of silence. It seemed the confrontation had captured an audience. The feel of dozens of eyes - eyes she'd been keen to avoid - were suddenly upon her. A well of humiliation rose in her gut, riding upon the wave of unburied doubt the Imperial had disturbed. But it wasn't enough; her rage was already too far gone. And it returned and burned anew with her indignation to fuel it.

"You speak of me as if you know me, fetcher" the Dunmer's voice was glacial with its bitterness, sending shudders down the spines of those that heard it. The air was painfully tight, the anticipation maddening. Many patrons desired nothing more than to flee from the elf's proximity, but dared not to move. Talisyn could bare it no more, her lips twisting into a leer as she spat out, "But you know _nothing_"

That searing glare remained upon the smith for final moment, before the elf threw down some coin and tore through the crowd.

Adrianne let out a spiralling breath, watching the elf bruise her way out of the tavern. Like a bull in a china shop, the Dunmer was anything but subtle. The smith had wondered just what kind of apprentice she'd be getting, and after reading Fervyn's latest letter, she realised he hadn't been exaggerating.

"Well…that could have gone better" Ulfberth rumbled from behind her, utterly weary from the exchange. Adrianne turned about as the inn door slammed shut, lips still curled at the corners. He knew that look. That delightfully coy smile the smith wore when she was up to no good. He groaned quietly, realising what had just happened. The Imperial merely chuckled.

"No. In fact, it went better than I could have hoped"

* * *

The elf was yet again grateful for Skyrim's icy chill upon her burning skin. But it was a distant, idle thought, drowned out by the ongoing maelstrom of a headache. Her temper was far from through, and as she thundered down the stone steps from the Bannered Mare, she could see no end in sight.

The tenacity of that woman! She hadn't done anything to antagonise the Imperial. She hadn't even known her name! But the smith had known hers, her craft, her occupation…and every other bloody thing too! The elf felt herself growling and grating her teeth all over again. The smith had been taunting her, goading her deliberately for some sick reason. It mattered not, not now. Talisyn was more concerned about the fact that she'd risen to the bait; that she'd almost given into her Rage. That she'd been made a fool of for the second time that evening.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, the Dunmer failed to notice the company of warriors heading up towards her. It wasn't until she was upon them, colliding painfully with a tall, dark haired Nord, that the elf refocused. The mead in her gut made her balance precarious, and her temper more fluid. Both showed as she stumbled back with a snarl, "Watch it, s'wit!"

His silver eyes were uncanny, glaring down at her with irritation. Despite her bubbling anger, she felt a cold spike of alarm shoot through her. The man's very presence put her on edge, making the Dunmer sober up somewhat. Talisyn held her glare however, defiant in the face of her unease. Growling she pushed past him, noticing his entourage. A near identical man stood not too far behind, eyes trained on her warily. He was heavy in build, and gave off the same eerie intensity. At his side lingered a young Imperial, evident disbelief upon her features at the Dunmer rudeness.

Forcing down the shudders, the elf grumbled and quickened her pace. She had no more patience for the locals' 'delightful company'. In fact, Talisyn had had more than enough of Whiterun for one night.

* * *

R&R please!


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** _Hi folks, Winter here! Another update, another slow character development chapter. Plot will be picking up in chapter 4, but remember, this is an AU fic. Since Talisyn is not the Dovahkiin, she will have to prove her worth to Whiterun first before the Companions would even consider her. We are trying to make the game more realistic, hence the slow-burner (both plot/romance/pacing). We will be watching a character evolve and grow here._

**_R&R please!_**

_- WBR_

_**Fate Deals Series**_

_**The Honest Hand - Vol. 1 **_

**Chapter 3:**

"Hmm, this is really good, Zaynabi" the Dunmer chirped through a mouthful of the cheesy bread. She sat cross legged beside the fire, glad to be free of her breastplate for once. Zaynabi's whiskery smile broadened as she dunked bread into the pot, a trail of cheesy fondue coming out, "Not your standard morning grub"

"Yes…and no" the cat had trouble keeping that cheeky glint out of her green eyes, "Khajiit made it to help your head"

Talisyn near choked on the delicious morsel, her ears darkening with embarrassment. She'd indeed forgotten all about her…headache since tucking in. The pounding had become rather irritating, accompanied by the unpleasant memories from the night before. Lips pursing, the Dunmer paused mid chew, "What'd you put in it?"

Zaynabi finished her fill before giving the elf that mischievous grin once more, "That would be telling, my friend"

Grumbling to herself, Talisyn eyed her bowl suspiciously. Blast it, the mixture looked tempting, but she couldn't help but wonder. Put out by the paranoia, the elf's appetite abated. With a sigh, she reached for her pack, leaving her bowl forgotten.

Plated footfalls sounded from behind her, and it wasn't long before Kharjo appeared. The cat looked a bit worse for wear, fur sticking up about his ears. He settled down next to the elf, greeting her with a wide yawn, showing off an impressive array of fanged teeth. The Dunmer's lips quirked up at the corners.

"Sleepy?" feline eyes blinked groggily at her, before he managed a weak smile, "Seems I wasn't the only one up late last night"

"This one had…trouble sleeping, yes" his eyes skittered away, avoided hers. The Dunmer frowned in surprise; that was odd. There was rigidity in his shoulders, tightness in his jaw. Talisyn slowed in opening her pack, a bolt of concern for her friend darting across her mind. It was obvious he didn't want to speak of it, but it didn't make her any less curious.

Sighing through her nose, the Dunmer caught sight of her bowl. Red eyes brightened instantly, and in a flash the Khajiit found the cheesy concoction shoved before of his muzzle, "Here"

"You give me your discarded leftovers, how generous" the elf rolled her eyes, pushing Kharjo's shoulder in exasperation. Her hand wasn't met with much resistance, her joviality seeming to work.

"Try to cheer a man up, and he complains anyway" clawed fingers wrapped about the bowl, sniffing at it with intrigue. Once he realised exactly what the dish was, the Khajiit dug in with gusto. Dark eyebrows shot up at the sight, a bubble of laughter rising.

"And here I thought Zaynabi was trying to drug me" the elf took one last mournful look at the quickly disappearing meal before turning back to her pack. She missed the shared look of hilarity between Zaynabi and Ahkari. The elf was closer to the truth than she realised.

Kharjo felt notably better after a few minutes of silent munching, eyes distant whilst he mulled over his disturbed sleep. Such vivid nightmares, the like he'd not had since his imprisonment. And even then, they were never so…disturbing. His tail twitching as a shudder of unease raced down his spine. The cat forced the memories away for now, not wanting to ruin his good mood.

Licking his chops, Kharjo glanced back to his silent companion, the Dunmer scrawling away on parchment. She was using _Revelations_ as a hard surface, a ghostly smile upon her lips. His dark ears flicked forward with curiosity, "You write an account of your adventures, grey one?"

The quill continued to scratch across the paper, Talisyn snorting as she replied, "I hardly think my family wishes to here of my drunken exploits"

"Ahh, a letter home then" she caught the tone of intrigue, closing her eyes with a sigh. She knew by now of the inevitable storm of questions that lay ahead. So far, the elf had managed to keep much of her personal life to herself. But this was Kharjo, the cat with the uncanny ability to extract information from anyone when he put his mind to it.

"Yes" the Khajiit leaned his chin upon clasped hands, watching her expectantly with an inquisitive grin, "My parents still live in Raven Rock. And my father…he's adamant about keeping in regular contact"

"A protective man?" the elf's eyes widened at the understatement, giving an exaggerated nod. Kharjo snickered before continuing, "And a warrior? Khajiit has seen you wield the hammer, friend. A terrifying sight! Kharjo wonders, did he trained you?"

Talisyn seemed to swell with pride even when writing, her mouth twisting into a wicked grin, "That he did. Although he favours greatswords"

"A family of mighty grey warriors!" he was teasing her now, her quill paused just above the parchment as Talisyn raised an amused brow at him, "See how my tail trembles"

"You'll be all a tremble if you don't behave, whiskers" the silence that fell could only hold so long, before the guards cracked up laughing. It would seem that the Dunmer wasn't going to get much of her letter written. So as their joviality quietened to sniggers she bundled her belongings away.

"What of you, my friend?" the tables turned as Talisyn leaned back against a nearby rock, sharp eyes pinning the Khajiit down, "What of your family?"

The patchwork cat hummed in thought, idly playing with the empty fondue bowl, "Of the litter, Kharjo is the youngest. Two sisters and a brother, mother too"

"Sisters? That must have been fun" the very thought of having female siblings made Talisyn shudder, but her companion only chuckled warmly. He'd been away from home for so long, even the teasing torment from the twins would be greatly welcome, "Hey, you alright?"

Her voice jerked the cat from his musings, Kharjo glancing up with wide eyes, "Hmm? Y-Yes…t-this…this one has been away from Elsweyr longer than he'd like"

"Memories of home are often bittersweet" the Khajiit nodded, the pair falling into a more comfortable silence this time. Both thought of the distance between them and their loved ones, and both felt the familiar ache within their chests. The Dunmer eyed her war hammer, leaning against the tent post. Her father's stern face flickered within her mind, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Kharjo's mother once said that great distances make the heart grow fonder" the patchwork said, pulling at the chain about his neck. The jingling of a pendant sounded as it fell into his hands. He motioned for Talisyn to come closer, showing her the silvery locket engraved with twin moons, "But the heart can ache, and a long journey can take even longer to return from"

"So she gave you the amulet? As a keepsake?" the Khajiit's eyes were soft as he turned the amulet over with his furry fingers. Talisyn felt somewhat uncomfortable just then, as if she were watching something she shouldn't be privy to. But when Kharjo looked back at her with a grin, she found herself returning it, the cat trusted her.

"With a promise that this one would return one day" he carefully slipped the pendant back into his undershirt, "Else she'd send out Kharjo's siblings to hunt him down, and drag him home"

"Give with one hand, and threaten with the other. Sounds like my kind of lady"

They shared a final laugh before tidying up after their breakfast and readying themselves for the day. An hour or so went by without anything eventful occurring. Finally, as the sun hit midday, there was movement in front of the camp.

Talisyn looked back from her perch atop a tree stump, having been guarding the rear end of camp. A small Nord child was nervously babbling to Zaynabi, a guard watching over the youngster protectively. A dark brow rose as the girl handed the Khajiit a note, before looking directly at the Dunmer. Red eyes widened as Zaynabi lifted her head from reading to glance at the elf too.

"_Oh, now what?!"_ the Dunmer thought with an inward curse as the Khajiit headed her way. The elf got to her feet, armour creaking as she did so, "What is it, Zaynabi?"

"It seems you have caught someone's attention, my friend. They are requesting you by name" Talisyn frowned, taking the letter and skimming it. As she neared the bottom a cold lump had formed in her throat. _Warmaiden. Adrianne Avenicci. Smith._

"_That was the s'wit from last night!"_ her fingers clenched around the letter, "_Why in Oblivion would I answer her summons, the woman is ma-!?"_

As she finished reading, her eyes stuck on the name printed upon the last line. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears, her breathing caught in her throat.

_Fervyn Maren_.

* * *

"So you decided to stop by after all" the Imperial's voice was already grating on her nerves, and she'd only just arrived. Adrianne stood by her forge, dark apron and thick gloves upon her hands. The smith had her back to the elf, so how she'd heard Talisyn coming past the sound of the bellows was beyond her. The Dunmer had just finished her shift, Kharjo taking over for the afternoon. She'd been reluctant to come, but seeing as Fervyn had his hand in this somehow, she'd little choice.

Talisyn folded her arms across her breastplate, the chitin scraping at the movement, "It wasn't my first choice, but here I am"

"I see a night's sleep has done wonders for your mood" the Dunmer's brow twitched, but she kept her face as impassive as possible. After running through the events in the tavern, the elf remembered just how much the woman knew of her. And now her mentor?! The Dunmer wanted answers.

"You sent for me, by name. I want to know why" the elf's tone was demanding, with an element of threat. It caused Adrianne to still in her work, her brows raised as she regarded the stony Dunmer. The beige colour of the chitin, the bright warpaint and sharp angles of the elf's face made her unnervingly outlandish. And yet the experience showed in her stance, her eyes, her expression. One, which with practice, would someday demand respect.

The Imperial sighed, smiling at the elf as she took off her gloves. Talisyn watched as the brunette crossed to the workbench, retrieving a bundle of letters from the stone surface. She offered them to the elf, "Our conversation yesterday must have confused you, but I had to be sure"

Talisyn took them hesitantly, giving the Imperial another suspicious glance. Adrianne's smile curled at the corner, "Their genuine, before you ask"

Red eyes darted through the letters' contents, feeling her heart thumping against her ribs once more. If her eyes weren't mistaken, and Fervyn not playing some practical joke on her behalf…her apprenticeship had been transferred…-

"-to Whiterun?!" the elf's disbelief was evident in her voice. Red eyes shot up to lock with shining brown ones. Adrianne was smiling at her. There had been a whisper of excitement in there, the Imperial was sure of it. The Dunmer's mentor has spoken highly of her diligence and skill, "This…this is why you sent for me? So I could become _your_ apprentice?!"

Though Fervyn had also mentioned her stubbornness, and warned of her temper. _Those_ letters were stashed away for safe keeping, less the elf turn on her heel and never return. Adrianne's smile slipped ever so slightly at the condescending attitude, her brows slowly furrowing as she answered, "We're both literate, and that is what Fervyn has written, is it not? He has asked me to supervise the next level of your training"

Talisyn looked at the woman like she'd grown a second head, "Then what in Oblivion is your problem?!

At Adrianne's perplexed expression the elf snorted, shaking her head with disbelief, "Unbelievable! You act like a complete arse when we first meet, and then expect me to happily accept your tutelage?!"

The brunette crossed her arms, leaning into her hip as she stared the elf down. So much for civil conversation, "I had my reasons, though I was hardly-"

"Reasons?!" the elf barked a sharp, incredulous laugh before refocusing her glower, "Pray tell me, _master_, what reasons could you possibly have for-"

"Purpose" Adrianne snapped, her patience finally coming to an end. The Dunmer paused, regarding her with irritated confusion.

"What?" the smith stood up straight, moving forward to stand before the elf. Those brown eyes mirrored Talisyn's exasperation, the pair grating on each other's nerves. Adrianne indicated to the elf's hammer.

"When you unsheathe your weapon, you do so for a reason?" Talisyn followed the smith's finger, eying her weapon thoughtfully. Her initial anger was subsiding as her curiosity grew.

"Yes, but what of-" the smith's sudden prodding at Talisyn's breastplate broke the elf's concentration, "What is up with you?"

"When you don this armour, you do so for a reason?" Adrianne slapped the elf's pauldron, not even wincing at the sting it left upon her fingers, "You do so to protect yourself. You do so because without it you would die. The same reasoning applies to your hammer"

She looked ready to interject, but the smith was far from done. The Imperial stepped to one side, sweeping an arm towards her forge, "What do you see here?"

Talisyn rose a bow at her, mouth opening reluctantly, "Is…is this a trick question?"

The scowl she received was withering, even for Dunmeri standards. Talisyn couldn't help but shrink back somewhat, reminded once again of her father. As Adrianne repeated the question, the elf swallowed painfully. Red eyes darted past the woman's arm, coming to land on the orangey embers within the forge. Smoke rose from the smelter nearby. Sunlight shone off the steel greatsword lying upon the workbench, the blade painstakingly engraved with Nordic runes.

Her tongue felt heavy within her mouth, red eyes glancing back at the silent smith. Adrianne watched her intently, waiting.

"I see a well-used workshop…and one who obviously knows what they're doing" it was Adrianne's turn to lift her brow, an odd smirk upon her lips within a flash. Talisyn felt oddly chastised and even more foolish by the smith's retort.

"I asked what you saw, not for some kiss-ass apology" the Imperial sighed heavily and looked down; feeling the heat of the elf's frustration from where she stood, "Let me explain something to you, Talisyn"

"When I got that letter from Fervyn, I knew I'd be getting someone of skill. The man doesn't just hand out accolades to just anyone, let alone take an apprentice" Adrianne leaned back against a pillar as she spoke, "But he also warned me. He told me how restless you'd become, and that your work was suffering as a result"

"Last night, I had to see for myself. I can count on Fervyn to vouch for your skill, but your motivation?" Talisyn felt pinned under that gaze, those unwavering brown eyes, "Honestly, I had expected someone with more…direction, but I was mistaken"

"You don't know your purpose" the Dunmer went ridged, that question – _"Why are you here?"_ – ringing painfully loud within her head. Adrianne continued, "Not as a smith, nor as a person"

The elf could feel part of her mind raging with anger, the same part that had acted out at the tavern. How dare she question her?! She'd proven herself in battle, had completed her father's training and had come this far in the smithing trade. She was a Segroth and that meant something!

But then, without the drink, Talisyn's logic couldn't help but…mull over the smith's words. Hadn't she questioned herself at least twice after leaving the Jarl and again at the bar? Her thoughts had almost constantly been of home, of her parents, of her brother. Even Windhelm and that wretched Grey Quarter, and Fervyn. She'd come to Whiterun as a way out, as a desperate means of escaping the suffocating routine. Back there she was nobody, but here…she'd hoped…

Red eyes widened as humiliation began to flood her gut, "_Am I really that naive?"_

"It may be hard to swallow, but you need to accept that fact. That you simple…_don't know_. There is no shame it" the elf avoided her gaze now, and the smith felt herself sigh with relief. Talisyn was listening at least. She didn't like what she was hearing, not one bit, but at least she was listening.

"Hiding behind this caravan guard nonsense? No, it isn't going to cut it" the Imperial scowled, hands swiping sharply through the air to back-up her point, "You're no cut-throat mercenary out for hire, your better than that. Otherwise, Fervyn wouldn't have sent you to me"

Adrianne sighed as she glanced back at the elf, the smith's scowl softening ever so slightly.

"You're young, from what I understand of your kind, and have a lot of life ahead of you. It could take you years, or days, but you will find a purpose, you _must_. For a smith without a purpose is not much of a smith at all"

Silence fell between them as the Imperial finished, coming to stand beside her work bench. Adrianne had scrutinised the elf's every move throughout her little speech. The Dunmer was in deep thought and would most likely remain so for quite some time. The smith had given her plenty to think on. Adrianne decided, as she picked up a hammer and some iron plates, that she might as well busy Talisyn's hands whilst her mind was preoccupied.

"Come now, lass. Enough of this dour talk, I want to see what you can do" the elf was reluctant at first, almost like a shy child, but once handed the hammer that all changed. A shadow remained over her thoughts, but the tension in the elf's jaw loosened and her shoulders relaxed somewhat. Nodding, the elf took the hammer with a ghostly smile.

"Out of that breastplate! I won't have you sweating everywhere in my workshop" and just like that the pair set into a steady rhythm of hammering and instruction, interspersed with light banter. As the hours passed, the elf grew more and more relaxed until, at last, Adrianne managed to coax a proper smile from her.

The Imperial matched it with one of her own, "_There's hope for this one yet"_

* * *

**R&R please!**


End file.
